I turned back to Temple, expecting to see a rogue grin, and wanting to let him know in no uncertain terms that I didn’t appreciate his candor. But he was still staring at Roland, idly swirling the wine in his glass. I opened my mouth to pepper him with questions, like where the hell the spear was, for starters.
“Who are you guys?” he asked Roland.
Roland looked to be debating how much to say. “I work for the church. Callie is my student.”
Nate blinked. “The church?” Then he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as his other hand reached into his pocket. Roland tensed as if expecting a gun. Nate smiled. “Easy. Just a coin. Helps keep me focused. Grounded. Better than those lame fidget spinners.”
Claire discreetly shoved the fidget spinner she had been playing with earlier under a pillow, and I bit back a grin.
But Roland was staring at the coin with a suddenly very alarmed look on his face. Nate hesitated, a guarded mask abruptly slamming over his earlier smiles.
“I don’t mean anyone here any harm,” Nate said, slowly sliding the coin back into his pocket, a deeply considering look on his face, as if surprised and concerned at Roland’s reaction.
Roland slowly nodded, gaze burning a hole in Nate’s pocket.
Looking from one man to the other, I realized I wasn’t going to get an answer if they continued their duel of unspoken conversations. “Did you get my stick?”
Nate flinched, as if surprised to hear I was still in the room, which instantly rankled me. But then those eyes swiveled my way. I felt like I had been pinned to my chair by daggers. But I kept my body erect, hoping he didn’t realize the effect he had with that look. There was a touch of madness in those emerald eyes. Maybe not madness, but… danger. Recklessness. Finality. Something that made my hair want to stand up. I couldn’t quite pin it down, but I knew destruction followed in his footsteps. And judging by Roland’s reaction, he knew it, too, even if he thought so for different reasons. Whatever that coin had been had startled him.
“No, I didn’t get the stick. The Demon took it.” He studied me. “What is it, really?”
I deferred to Roland, waving a hand at him. “Ask him. I’m just a temp worker.”
For some reason, that made Nate burst out in laughter. “You and me both, kid.”
Roland ignored Nate’s outburst, likely disappointed in my words. I don’t know why, but Nate’s comment hadn’t offended me like it should have. Maybe it was his tone. It had sounded more like he had heard an inside joke. “Go ahead, Gandalf. Tell me what you will, and I’ll tell you if I’ll help. Either way, I am leaving with the book I paid for,” he added, smirking my way.
I thought I saw Roland mouth the word Rider as Nate took another drink of his wine, but he was too far away for me to hear, and I was crap at reading lips. Claire and I had tried doing that together when in school, and quickly seeing how terrible I was at it, she had refused to communicate with me at all until I agreed. Handwritten notes became our go to after that.
“One hears a lot about you, Temple…” Roland began in a conversational tone.
Nate waved a hand dismissively. “We’re not here about me. We’re here about your stick. The one Callie, here, made me overpay for,” he turned to me with an intense look, but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or acknowledgment of a well-delivered blow, “and that I didn’t actually take possession of. Then she stole my book.” He casually pointed at Roland’s lap.
Roland nodded, resting his hand on the book possessively. “The… stick is dangerous. I am a Shepherd for the Vatican.” No reaction from Nate. “I intended to get the stick and hand it over to them so they could lock it away where none could reach it.”
Nate blinked, and I noticed what seemed like a look of startled relief in his eyes as I studied the profile of his face. As if sensing my attention, he turned to me, frowning further. Then he glanced back at Claire, who lifted up her hands in surrender. “I’m just being a good friend. Trying to keep him alive.”
Nate turned back to Roland, then took in the items on the night stand beside his bed. “You’re dying?”
Roland grimaced. “She’s being dramatic. Just a scratch.” Claire sniffed angrily, and Roland’s eyes tightened. “Maybe more than a scratch, but all will be well in time.”
Nate tapped his lips thoughtfully, as if debating something. “I have a… friend who might be able to fix you up,” he finally offered, coming to some inner decision.
I suddenly grew very excited. “That would be great. Then you can get back to this on your own, Roland. I’m in way over my head, if you can’t tell—”
“Thank you, but no,” he told Nate, ignoring me.
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “What? Why the hell not?” I blurted.
“No offense,” Roland said, looking at Nate, “but I don’t know you well enough to accept that kind of a gift.”
Nate shrugged, not pressing the issue, but seeming to understand why Roland reacted the way he had. “Offer is there. No obligation, repayment, or oath. A gift. Truly.”
Roland shook his head slowly. “Again, no thank you… Master Temple.”
Nate leaned back in his chair. “Right. You have a problem with a stick. A Demon likely has it, but some kind of mutant werewolf, a vampire, and a freaking werebear tried to get it. Oh, and don’t forget the Nephilim.”
I jumped to my feet. “What?” I shouted.
Nate nodded, studying Roland with a frown. “The first one to die tonight. Offspring of an Angel and a human. I never saw his murderer, but I know a Nephilim when I see one.”
Roland sighed with regret, but I thought I heard him mouth you would know, under his breath. Nate’s attention snapped to Roland, and he nodded agreement.
“The one who called me Constance?” I asked, more to myself than anyone in the room, because I couldn’t wrap my head around any of this.
Nate nodded. “A lot of people want your stick. You’re injured. You’re a doctor. And you’re a thieving wizard in training.” He said none of this harshly, simply stating facts as he pointed to each of us. “It sure looks like you could use a hand.” He stood to leave. “Enjoy the food. Drink my wine. Discuss. If you want my help, call me.” The arrogance was so casual that I felt blood begin to pound in my ears this time, even though I could tell he wasn’t consciously trying to be rude. Confidence just oozed form his pores. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve heard rumors about a stick in town. I came here to see if they were true. Until Callie bumped up the price, I wasn’t going to play the game. But her clever bidding attracted my… attention,” he added, smiling lightly at her. “I was just going to lock it away where none could get at it. Seeing as how that’s your goal, too, maybe we could work together. But with you injured, and you in training, I’d like a more involved role. I don’t like taking orders, especially not from someone working for someone else.” He tossed a card on the table. “Call me if you want.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Maybe even if you don’t. Oh, and you can deliver the book to my hotel. Address is on the card.”
Then he was walking away. As he passed Claire, he winked at her. “Nice fidget spinner,” he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, and then he was closing the door behind him, whistling softly.
Chapter 18
We spent a great deal of time talking. Who were the confirmed interested parties? Why were they interested? How did anyone, or everyone, seem to know about the spear? Why did they want it? Who was working for whom? And could we trust Nate Temple?
“I don’t like repeating myself,” Roland grumbled. “I cannot aid you yet.” He shot a scowl at Claire as if it were her fault, but she just folded her arms and let out another sniff, which was becoming common. Nate’s whirlwind arrival had done more to break her out of her troubles than anything I had done, which was frustrating. She seemed to have newfound confidence, eager for me to work with him.
Roland continued. “Temple is our best bet, for now. Even though it boils my blood to admit it. You
will need help. Without the piece from the auction, at least we can get the other two. We must keep them away from each other. We can’t allow the three to reunite. For good or evil. Disaster lies in every direction, even if a squadron of Angels wanted to use it…” he added as an afterthought.
I opened my mouth to argue, especially hearing that Angels could enter the game, ready to restate that this was way more than I should be helping with, but Claire cut in. “Temple is very well known. I didn’t know he was a wizard, but learning that, it seems to connect a lot of the bizarre stories and rumors surrounding him. He must have contacts that can help. Even though this isn’t his city. And I think he’s telling the truth,” she said the last softly.
As much as it pained me to admit, I agreed, despite him likely being an asshole of the highest rank.
But a small, insistent part of me latched onto a different thought. He was a wizard, and apparently, a very powerful one. I had felt his strength, and seen him take on a werebear without breaking a sweat. Then, he had chased the Demon. It took brass balls to do something like that.
And Roland was nervous around him. Around that coin of his, especially.
Spending time around Nate could teach me a lot of things. Maybe even give me the chance to build my own confidence without all the religious rules Roland demanded. If even a fraction of his arrogance rubbed off on me, I would have enough to rival any Hollywood celebrity. The thought made me smile. This wasn’t something I was going to say out loud in front of Roland. But I was eager to see what I could learn from him — both magically, and to help me overcome my fears. The persistent nightmare that struck me whenever the consequences were real.
Generally, confidence wasn’t a problem for me, but when it came to the real world fighting I had seen lately, I knew I had held myself back because of my fear. Uncertainty gripped me, even though it was irrational. Maybe Nate could help me overcome that.
“There is no hope for it but to go to the wolves.” Roland had made some phone calls, and had found nothing beneficial about the other two pieces of the spear. But we knew the wolves had snuck back to the storage unit to pick up the one we tried to get last night. I almost hoped I hadn’t killed the one from the auction, because right now, he was my only lead. “Vampires, the wolves, the bear, and Nephilim. They were all at the auction, so all are suspect, even though I have no confirmation any of them have a piece. You must check. We can’t eliminate anyone as a suspect until we know for certain.” He studied me. “Are you ready for the task?”
I hesitated. Was I terrified? Yes. Taking on the wolves was one thing, and in a direct confrontation, I thought I would be fine, but stealing from them? Pestering the other monsters? That was an act of war.
“I… would like to think on it.”
Roland watched me. As did Claire. “Don’t think too long, girl,” he said not unkindly, but with a very serious look on his face.
I nodded, and headed to my room. I needed to get some sleep. Perhaps I would have an answer when I woke.
Chapter 19
I stretched my legs in the parking lot of my apartment. I had woken earlier than I thought I would, and wanted to burn off some steam. I did a few jumping jacks to warm up, and then checked my phone. I had a missed call from an unknown number, but shrugged it off. Telemarketers had gotten my number a few weeks back, and it was almost a daily occurrence now. I slipped the phone into my armband, and began to jog. The church was only about fifteen minutes away by a light jog, and then I could say good morning to Father David, letting him know I was heading downstairs to train, and give him an update on Roland.
I worked out religiously, using it as a form of meditation, and after the past two nights, I needed some fucking tranquility, dammit.
I didn’t sprint or try to set any records, I just moved, stretching out my strides in a steady pace, appreciating the burn, and knowing that someday soon, working out would become a requirement to maintain my body. Not yet, but I didn’t want to be caught by surprise.
I decided I would take an hour to see my dad today. It had been a week, and he always seemed to make me feel better. Grounding my anxiety.
I let my mind wander, breathing deeply. My nightmare. I had beaten it, kind of. It had still almost gotten me killed, but seeing Claire’s resolve, and then her in very real danger had silenced it. For the most part. Which was a huge accomplishment.
But thinking of my dad and the nightmare together brought back memories. He and my mom were — indirectly, of course — the reason I had the nightmares. Which made them sound like bad people, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Terry and Sarah Penrose were some of the kindest people I had ever met.
Remembering how focusing on my nightmare seemed to have helped me gain some self-control, I decided to try the same here, going back to the source of the nightmare itself. A jog would be the perfect time to do so, as I would be completely uninterrupted for the next fifteen minutes or so.
I grew up much as any middle-class American girl. Small neighborhood. Outskirts of the big city. Parents who worked hard but didn’t make a ton. And kids behind every door on my street.
That’s how I first met Claire.
She had been a neighbor and we had fast become friends at a very young age, getting into all sorts of trouble together over the following years. But when I was ten-years-old, my life had taken a turn… I remembered it now in full detail.
Claire and I were playing on the swings in her back yard. Her mom came out with a small tray of sandwiches and a smile — only to tease Claire with a small piece of paper in her other hand. A baby picture.
She had been pudgy, rosy cheeked, and looked like a little old man. I thought to myself — as they laughed back and forth — that I had never seen a picture like that before. Of me, as a baby.
I asked my parents about it that evening. They turned to each other, smiles still plastered on their faces, but their eyes didn’t smile. I began to wonder if I had done something wrong with my chores. But that wasn’t the case. They wrapped me up in blankets, hugs, kisses, and carried me into the living room.
After two cups of hot chocolate brimming with marshmallows, they finally stopped stalling, and told me a story. They had adopted me.
For years and years, they had tried to have a baby, but had been unsuccessful. They then tried adoption agency after adoption agency, even hitting up churches in their area, to see if anyone knew an affordable way for them to adopt.
But none of the answers helped them.
It was too expensive. My parents needed to take all three siblings or none — when they barely had enough money for one baby. Teenaged foster children that had gone through very challenging struggles, and needed one of my parents to stay home to watch over and supervise. But my parents couldn’t afford that reduction in income.
And they wanted a baby.
After years of trying, they gave up.
More than a year went by, when one day, a man from one of the churches they had approached called to ask if they were still interested or if they had found another solution. My parents hadn’t held out much hope, but agreed to at least go to the church.
Abundant Angel Catholic Church.
That was when they met Father David — the same man that now worked with Roland. But Roland wasn’t in the picture yet. That would come years later…
Father David told them a story, about finding me on the steps of their church in a rainstorm a few weeks prior. He had opened the door, found me there, and immediately took me in, making sure I was healthy while he worked out the legalities of what he needed to do.
The Vatican helped him take guardianship of me while he searched out potential parents.
And purely by happenstance, my parents had been near the top of the list, and the people ahead of them had already found other solutions. If they said no, he had arrangements to send me to an orphanage in Utah, of all places. So, Terry and Sarah Penrose became parents to a very young, white-haired toddler. And they had never
looked back. Because there was nothing to look back on. No one had ever found an explanation for my appearance, but it was assumed that I was the progeny of a prostitute, or a druggie, or any number of sad stories.
But I was healthy with a bubbling temperament, and that’s all the Penrose’s cared about.
That night was the first time I had my nightmare, reimagining the things I had been told, but in a much darker light. Usually with shadows slipping through the darkness, or laughter behind me, or a sense of my biological mother being relieved as soon as she sat me down on the steps and banged on the door to the church.
Typical childhood fancy. Make something worse than what it was, when in fact, I had absolutely nothing to complain about. Terry and Sarah Penrose had been the best of parents. Not rich in coin, but what they lacked in deposit accounts at a bank, they made up for with their savings accounts.
Because for years and years, they had been investing a little bit of love into an imaginary savings account in their hearts, waiting for the day that they could give that savings account to their baby, even though they had long ago given up hope.
To be honest, I now considered myself to be the luckiest girl in the world. And to hell with my shitty past. Never had parents loved a child more than they loved me, and if they hadn’t told me, I never would have known. I wouldn’t have believed it if anyone else had told me.
That’s how much love they had in their savings accounts.
But… the fear still gripped me. Why had my biological mother given me up? Had I not been pretty enough? Had I behaved like a nightmare? Had she simply not cared for me? Had my father made her give me up? The possibilities were endless, but my fears stemmed from one facet of all of them.
Unchained: Feathers and Fire Book 1 Page 9